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EVERY SATURDAY:

A JOURNAL OF CHOICE READING.

VOL. I.]

SATURDAY, JUNE 1, 1872.

[No. 22.

BY EDMUND YATES.

AUTHOR OF

CHAPTER IV. - PAULINE.

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delicious and yet how strange seem to her the smell of the THE YELLOW FLAG.

pot-au-feu, and the warm aroma of the chocolate! How steep the stairs seem to have become : she will never be

able to reach the top! What is this Pierre and Jean are BLACK SHEEP," " NOBODY'S FORTUNE," ETC., ETC. saying? The sea has swept away the breakwater at La

Joliette, and is rapidly rushing into the town! It is here, it is in the street below! Fighting madly with the boiling

waters is one man - she can catch a glimpse of his face THE.cold, gray morning light, shining through the little now. Grand Dieu, it is Tom! She will save him — no, too

window of a small bedroom in a second-rate hotel at late! he is borne swiftly past, he is – Lymington, made its way through the aperture between And with a short, suppressed scream she woke. the common dimity curtains, which had been purposely

It was probably the rapping of the chambermaid at the separated over night, and fell upon the slumbering figure of bedroom door which dissipated Pauline's dream, and rePauline. The poor and scanty furniture of the room, with called her to herself; and it is certain that the chamberits dingy bed-hangings, its wooden washstand, two rush- maid, whose quick ears caught the scream, went down stairs bottomed chairs, and rickety, one-sided chest of drawers, more than ever impressed with terror at the “foreign perall painted a pale stone-color, were in strong contrast with son” whom she had scarcely had sufficient courage to conthe richness of coloring observable in the sleeper; observ- duct to her room on the previous evening. Notwithstandable in her jet-black hair, now taken from off her face and

ing the bizarre shape which they had assumed, these remgathered into one large coil at the back of her head, in her iniscences of a portion of Pauline's past life had been so olive complexion, sun-embrowned indeed, but yet showing vivid, that it was with great difficulty she could clear her distinctly the ebb and flow of her Southern blood, and in brain, and arrive at an idea of why she found herself in the the deep orange-hued handkerchief, daintily knotted round

dingy bedroom of a country inn, and of what lay before her neck. See, now, how troubled are her slumbers; how her. Sitting upon the edge of her bed, with her arms from between her parted lips comes a long though scarcely crossed upon her bosom, she gradually recalled the occuraudible moan; how the strong, thin hand, lying outside the rences of the previous day, and came to comprehend what coverlet, clutches convulsively at nothing; and how she had been the key-note of her dream, and who was the paleseems, in her unrest, to be struggling to free herself from faced woman whose presence had so disturbed her. There the thraldom of the troublous dream, under the influence was, however, no time for reflection at that moment; she of which part of the torture suffered by her during the had been aroused in accordance with instructions given on previous day is again pressing upon her.

the previous night, and there was but little time for her to Yes! the woman with the pale, tear-blurred face is there dress herself and to make her way to the station, where she once again. Once again Tom Durham stands at the car- was to await the arrival of her husband. Her toilet comriage-door, whispering to her with evident earnestness, pleted, she hurried down stairs, and declining to taste any until the guard touches him on the shoulder, and the whistle of the substantial breakfast which the hearty Hampshire shrieks; and then she bends forward, and he holds her for a landlady was then engaged in discussing, and to which she moment in his outspread arms, and kisses her once, twice, invited her visitor, issued out into the broad street of the thrice, on her lips, until he is pulled aside by the porter quiet old town. coming to shut the door of the already moving carriage, Past the low-windowed shops, where the sleepy 'prentice and she falls back in an agony of grief. There is a moist- boys were taking down the shutters, and indulging in such ure in his eyes too, such as she, Pauline, with all her expe- fragmentary conversation as could be carried on under the rience of him, has never seen there. He is the lover of eyes of their masters, which they knew were bent upon this palefaced woman, without a doubt; and therefore he them from the upper rooms; past the neat little post-office, must die! She will kill him herself! She will kill him where the click of the telegraph needles was already audiwith the pearl-handled knife which Gaetano, the mate of ble, and whence were issuing the sturdy country postmen, the Italian ship, gave her, telling her that all the Lombard each with his huge well-filled leathern wallet on his back; girls wore such daggers in their garters ready for the heart past the yacht-builder's yard, where the air was redolent or of any Tedesco who might insult them, or any other girl pitch and tar, and newly-chipped wood; where, through the who might prove their rival. The dagger is up stairs

, in the half-opened gates, could be seen the slender, tapering masts little bedroom at the top of the house, overlooking the Can- of many yachts already laid up for the season in the creek, nebière, which she shares with Mademoiselle Mathilde. and where a vast amount of hammering and sawing and She will fetch it at once, and after it has served its purpose planing was, as the neighbors thought, interminably going she will carry it to the chapel of Notre Dame de la Garde, on. Not but what the yacht-building yard is one of the and hang it up among the votive offerings; the pictures of great features of the place; for were it not for the yacht shipwrecks, storms, sea-fights, and surgical operations; the owners, who first come down to give orders about the buildmodels of vessels, the ostrich eggs, the crutches left by ing of their vessels, then pay a visit to see how their incripples no longer lame, and the ends of the ropes by structions are being carried out, and finally, finding the which men have been saved from drowning. How clearly place comfortable, tolerably accessible, and not too dear, she can see the place, and all its contents, before her now! bring their wives and families, and make it their headShe will leave the dagger there : as the weapon by which quarters for the yachting season, what stranger would ever a traitor and an Englishman has been slain, it will not be come to Lymington? what occupants would be found for its out of place, though Père Gasselin shake his head and lift

lodging-houses and hotels ? his monitory finger. She will fetch it at once! Ah, how The clock struck seven as Pauline passed through the booking-office at the railway-station, and stepped out on to reminiscence of her dream still lingering in her mind, that the platform. She looked hastily round her in search for turned her memory to the last occasion when she had Tom Durham, but did not see him. A sudden chill fell taken such thoughtful exercise; and the scene, exactly as it upon her, as the remembrance of her dream flashed across occurred, rose before her. her mind. The next instant she was chiding herself for The time, early morning, not much after six o'clock; the imagining that he would be there. There was yet half an place, the Prado at Marseilles; the persons, a few belated, hour before the arrival of the train by which they were to blue-bloused workmen hurrying to their work; a few solproceed to Weymouth; he would be tired by his long swim diers lounging about as only soldiers always seem to lounge from the ship to the shore, his clothes would of course be when they are not on duty, a limumadière with her temple saturated, and he would have to dry them; he would, deposited on the ground by her side, while she washes ile doubtless, rest as long as he could in the place where he sparkling tin cups in a gurgling drinking-fountain. Two had found shelter, and only join her just in time to start. or three water-carts pounding along, and refreshingly There was no doubt about his finding shelter somewhere, sprinkling the white, dusty road; two or three English he was too clever not to do that; he was the cleverest man grooms exercising horses, and she, Pauline Lunelle, dame in all the world ; it was for his talent she had chosen him du compioir at the Restaurant du Midi, in the Cannebiere, from all the others years ago; it was for – and then Pau- pacing up and down the Prado, and turning over in her line's face fell, remembering that Tom Durham was as un- mind a proposition, on the acceptance or rejection of which scrupulous as he was clever, and that if this pale-faced depended her future happiness or misery. That proposiwoman were really any thing to him he would occupy his tion was a proposition of marriage, not by any means the talent in arranging how and when to meet her in secret, in first that she had received. The handsome, black-eyed, planning how to obtain further sums of money from the old black-haired, olive-skinned dame du comptoir was one of the man whose messenger she had been.

reigning belles of the town, and the Restaurant du Midi How the thought of that woman haunted her! How her was such a popular place of resort that she never lacked whole life seemed to have changed since she had witnessed admirers. All the breakfast-eaters, the smokers, the that parting at the railway-station yesterday! She felt billiard-players, even the decorated old gentlemen who that it would be impossible for her to hide from Tom the dropped in as regularly as clockwork every evening for a fact that she was laboring under doubt and depression of game of dominoes or tric-trac, paid their court to her; and some kind or other. She knew his tact and determination in several cases this court was something more than the in quickly learning whatever he thought it behooved him to mere conventional bat-doffing, or the few words of empty find out; and she thought it would be better to speak open- politeness whispered to her as she attended to the settle ly to him, to tell him what she had seen, and to ask him ment of their accounts. Adolphe de Noailles, only a sousfor some explanation. Yes: she would do that. The train lieutenant of artillery to be sure, but a man of good family, was then in sight; he would no longer delay putting in an and who, it was said, was looked upon with favor by Made appearance on the platform, and in a few minutes they moiselle Krebs, daughter of old Monsieur Krebs, the Gerwould be travelling away to soft air, and lovely scenery, man banker, who was so rich, and who gave such splendid with more than sufficient money for their present wants, parties, had asked Pauline Lunelle to become his wife; had and for a time, at least, with rest and peace before them. * ah-bah-d” when she talked about the difference in their Then she would tell him all, and he would doubtless re-as- positions, and had insisted that in appearance and manner sure her, showing her how silly and jealous she had been, she was equal to any lady in the south of France. So had but forgiving her because she had suffered solely through Heinrich Wetter, head clerk and cashier in the bank of her love for him.

Monsieur Krebs aforesaid; a tall, fair, lymphatic young By this time a number of passengers had gathered to- man, who, until his acquaintance with Pauline, had thought gether on the platform, awaiting the arrival of the train ; of nothing but Vaterland, and the first of exchange, but and Pauline passed hastily among them, looking eagerly to who professed himself ready to become naturalized as a the right and left, and, retracing her steps through the Frenchman, and to take up his abode for life in Marseilles, booking-office, opened the door and glanced up the street if she would only listen to his suit. So had Frank Jenkins, leading to the station. No sign of Tom Durham any- attached to the British post-office, and in that capacity where? Perhaps he had found a nearer station to a point bringing the Indian mails from London to Marseiles. at which he had swum ashore, and would be in the train embarking them on board the Peninsular and Oriental now rapidly approaching.

steamer, and waiting the arrival of the return mail which The train stopped; two or three passengers alighted, carried them back to England; a big, jolly, massive creaand were so soon mixed up with the crowd of sailors, ship- ture, well known to everybody in the town as Monsieur carpenters, and farm-laborers rushing to take their seats, Jenkins, or the “ courier Anglais,” who had a bedroom at that Pauline could not distinguis! them, but she knew Tom the Hotel de Paradis, but who spent the whole of bis time was not amongst them; and when she walked quickly at the Restaurant du Midi, drinking beer, or brandy, or down the line of carriages, throwing a rapid but compre- absinthe, it was all the same to him, to keep the landlord hensive glance round each, she saw him not, and the train "square," as he phrased it, but never taking his eyes off passed on, and she was left once more alone upon the plat- the dame du comptoir, and never losing an opportunity of form.

paying her the most outrageous compliments in the most Then, with frowning brows, and set, rigid lips, Pauline outrageous French ever heard even in that city of polyglot commenced walking up and down, covering with her long, strangers. striding footsteps, so different from her usual easy, swim- If Pauline Lunelle had a tenderness for any of them, it ming gait, exactly the same amount of space at every turn, was for the sous-lieutenant ; at the Englishmen, and, wheeling, apparently unconsciously, at the same point, indeed, at a great many others - Frenchmeu, commis-vontreading almost in the same prints which she had pre- grurs, tradesmen in the city, or clerks in the merchants' viously made, keeping her eyes steadfastly fixed on the offices on the Quai — she laughed unmercifully. Not to ground, and being totally unaware of all that was passing their faces, indeed, that would have been bad for business ; around her. She was a clear-headed as well as a strong- and Pauline throughout her life had the keenest eye to her willed woman, accustomed to look life and its realities own benefit. Her worth as a decoy-duck was so fully boldly in the face; and, unlike the majority of her country- appreciated by Monsieur Etienne, the proprietor of the men and women, swift to detect shallowness of sophistry restaurant, that she had insisted upon receiving a commiswhen propounded by others, and careful never even to ai- sion on all moneys paid by those whose visits ibither were tempt to impose upon herself. Throughout her life, so long unquestionably due to her attraction. But when they had as she could remember, she had been in the habit of think retired for the night, the little top bedroom, which she ing out any project of importance which had arisen in her occupied in conjunction with Mademoiselle Mathilde, Fond career, while walking to and fro, just as she was doing then. ring with laughter, caused by her repetition of the swert It was, perhaps, the sameness of the action, perhaps some things which had bein said to her during the evening liv

some one

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pass the time.”

her admirers, and her imitations of the manner and accents tainly was not strait-laced; but his escapades, if he had in which they had been delivered. So Adolphe de Noailles any, were carefully kept in the background, and Pauline, had it all his own way, and Pauline had seriously debated suspicious as she was, had never felt any real ground for within herself whether she should not let him run the risk jealousy until she had witnessed the scene at parting at of offending his family and marrying him out of hand (the the Southampton station. disappointinent to be occasioned thereby to Mademoiselle The Prado and its associations had faded out of her Krebs, a haughty and purse-proud young lady, being one mind, and she was trying to picture to herself the various of her keenest incentives to the act), when another charac- chances which could possibly have detained her husband, ter appeared upon the scene.

when a porter halted before her, and, civilly touching his This was another Englishman, but in every way as dif- cap, asked for what train she was waiting. ferent as possible to poor Mr. Jenkins; not merely speaking * The train for Weymouth,” she replied. French like a Parisian, but salting his conversation with a “For Weymouth !" echoed the porter : "the train for vast amount of Parisian idiomatic slang, full of fun and Weymouth has just gone.” wild practical jokes; impervious to ridicule, impossible to “Yes, I know that,” said Pauline; “but I was expecting be put down, and spending his money in the most lavish

a gentlemen

to meet me. He will probably and free-handed manner possible. This was Tom Durham, come in time for the next.” who had suddenly turned up in Marseilles, no one knew “ You will have a longish waiting bout,” said the man; why; he had been to Malta, he said, on a “venture," and “next train don't come till two forty-five, nigh upon three the venture had turned out favorably, and he was going

o'clock." back to England, and had determined to enjoy himself by “ That is long," said Pauline. “ And the next?the way. He was constantly at the Restaurant du Midi, “ Only one more after that,” said the porter, “eightpaid immense attention to the dame du comptoir, and she forty; gets into Weymouth somewhere between ten and in her turn was fascinated by his good temper, his generous

eleven at night. You'll never think of waiting here, ways, his strange, eccentric goings on. But Tom Durham, ma'am, for either of them! Better go into the town to one laughing, drinking, and spending his money, was the same of the hotels, or have a row on the river, or something to cool, observant creature that he had been ever since he shipped as 'prentice on board the “Gloucestershire,” when “ Thank you," said Pauline, to whom a sudden idea had he was fifteen years of age. All the time of his sojourn at occurred. “ How far is it from here to — how do you call the Restaurant du Midi, he was carefully “ taking stock," as the place — Hurstcastle ?" he called it, of Pauline Lunelle. In his various schemes he “ To where, ma'am ? Oh, Hurst Castle! I didn't underhad long felt the want of a female accomplice, and he thought stand you, you see, at first; you didn't make two words of he had at last found the person whom he had for some time it. It is Hurst Castle, where the king was kept a prisoner been seeking. That she was worldly-wise he knew, or she - him as had his head cut off; and where there's a barwould never have achieved the position which she held in racks and a telegraph station for the ships now.". Monsieur Etienne's establishment ; that there was far more “ Yes,” she said, “ exactly ; that's the place; how far is in her than she had ever yet given proof of, he believed ; it from here ?" for Mr. Tom Durham was a strong believer in physiog- “ Well, it's about seven mile, take it altogether; but

you nomy, and had more than once found the study of some use can't drive all the way. You could have a fly to take you to him. Sipping his lemonade and cognac, and puffing at four miles, and he'd bring you to a boat, and he'd take you his cigar, he sat night after night, talking pleasantly with in and out down little river through the marshes, until any chance acquaintance, but inwardly studying Panline you came to a beach, on the other side of which the castle Lunelle; and when his studies were completed, he had made stands. But, lor' bless me, miss, what's the use o' going at up his mind that he saw in her a wonderful mixture of all ? there's nothing to see when you get there!” headstrong passion and calm common-sense, unscrupulous, “I wish to go,” said Pauline, smiling. “ You see, I am a unfearful, devoted, and capable of carrying out any thing, foreigner, and I want to see where your British king was no matter what, which she had once made up her mind to kept a prisoner. Can I get a fly here?perform. “A tamable tiger, in point of fact,” said Tom The porter said he would find her one at once, and Durham to himself as he stepped out into the street, and speedily redeemed his promise. picked his way across the filthy gutters towards his home, Through neat villages and wooded lanes Pauline was ** and, if only kept in proper subjection, capable of being driven, until she came to a large, bare, open tract of counmade any thing of.” He knew there was only one way by try, on the borders of which the fly stopped, and the flyman which Pauline could be secured, and he made up his mind descending, handed her down some steps cut in the steep to propose to her the next night.

bank and into an old broad-bottomed boat, where a grizzled, He proposed accordingly, but Pauline begged for four elderly man, with his son, were busy mending an old duckand twenty hours to consider her decision ; and in the early gun. They looked up with astonishment when the flyman morning she went out into the Prado to think it all through, said, “Lady wants to go down to have a look at the castle, and deliberately to weigh the merits of the propositions Jack: I'll wait here, ma'am, until they bring you back.” made respectively by Adolphe de Noailles and Tom Dur- They spread an old jacket for her in the stern of the ham; the result being, that the sous-lieutenant's hopes boat, and, when she was seated, took to their oars, and were crushed forever, - or for fully a fortnight, when they pulled away with a will. It was a narrow, intricate, windblossomed in another direction, - and that Pauline, dame ing course, a mere thread of shallow, sluggish water, du comptoir no longer, linked her fate with that of Tom twisting in and out among the great gray marshes, fringed Durham. Thenceforward they were all in all to each with tall

, flapping weeds; and Pauline, already over-excited other: she had no relatives, nor, as he told her, had he and overwrought, was horribly depressed by the scene. (“I have not seen Alice for five years,” he said to himself;

you always plying in this boat ? ” she asked the old " and from what I recollect of her, she was a stuck-up, strait-laced little minx, likely to look down upon my young “Most days, ma'am, in case we should be wanted up at friend, the tiger, here, and give herself airs which the tiger the steps, there,” he replied; " but night's our best time, we certainly would not understand; so, as they are not likely reckon." to come together, it will be better to ignore her existence “ Night!” she echoed.

“Surely there are no passengers altogether).” In all his crooked schemes, and they were at night-time?' many and various, Pauline took her share, unflagging, “No, ma'am; not passengers, but officers and sportsmen: indefatigable, clear in counsel, prompt in action, jealous of gentlemen coming out gunning after the ducks and the every word, of every look, he gave to any other woman, at wild-fowl," he added, seeing she looked puzzled, and the same time the slave of his love, and the prop and pointing to a flock of birds feeding at some distance from mainstay of his affairs. Tom Durham himself had not them. that quality which he imputed to his balf-sister: he cer- “ And are you out every night ? ” she asked eagerly.

« Are

man.

“ Did you

now,

Barbier goes

“Well, not every, but most nights, ma'am.” “ Last night, for example?”

“Yes, miss, we was out, me and Harry here, not with any customers, but by ourselves; a main dark night it was too! but we hadn't bad sport, considering.”

did you meet any one else between this and Hurst Castle?

“Well, no, ma'am,” said the old man, with a low chuckle. “ It ain't a place where one meets many people, I reckon. Besides the ducks, a heron or two was about the strangest visitors we saw last night. Now, miss, here we are at the beach; you go straight up there, and you'll find the castle just the other side. When you come back, please shape your course for that black stump you see sticking up there; tide's falling, and we sha'n't be able to bide where we are

but we will meet you there.” Lightly touching the old man's arm, Pauline jumped from the boat, and rapidly ascending the sloping head, found herself, on gaining the top, close by a one-storied, whitewashed cottage, in a little bit of reclaimed land, half garden, balf yard, in which was a man in his shirt-sleeves washing vegetables, with a big black retriever dog lying at his feet. Accosting him, Pauline learned that the house was the telegraph station, whence the names of the outgoing and incoming ships are telegraphed to Lloyd's for the information of their owners. In the course of further conversation, the man said that the “Massilia" had anchored there during the night, had got her steam up and was off by daybreak: he took watch and watch with his comrade, and he turned out just in time to see her start.

Pauline thanked him, and returned to the boat; but she did not speak to the old man on her return passage, and when she reached the fly which was waiting for her, she threw herself into a corner, and remained buried in thought until she was deposited at the station.

A few minutes after, the train bound for Weymouth arrived. Through confusion, similar to that of the morning, she hurried along, criticising the passengers on the platform and in the carriages, and with the same vain result. The train proceeded on its way, and Pauline walked towards the hotel with the intention of getting some refreshment, which she needed. Suddenly, she paused, reeled, and would have fallen, had she not leaned against a wall for support. A thought like an arrow had passed through her brain - a thought which found its utterance in these words :

“ It is a trick, a vile trick from first to last! He has deceived me - he never intended to meet me, to take me to Weymouth or to Guernsey! It was merely a trick to keep me occupied and to put me off while he rejoined that woman !

ambush which could never be detected. If Francis and Junius were identical, then Francis was the most ungrateful rascal that ever lived, for Junius stabs with greatest fury at men to whom Francis was indebted for the most important acts of kindness. Junius remains veiled, and thence arises all modern interest in him. Were his iden. tity established beyond all question, human interest in him would be extinguished, at once and forever.

These matters were passing through our perfectly ingenuous mind, when, happening to open that part of the “ Journal de Barbier which comes under the head of “ Chronique du Regne de Louis XV.," our acute eye fell upon the opening passage in the record for August, 1748. The passage is to this effect: “In the beginning of this month a state prisoner arrived in the Bastile, in a carriage, escorted by fifty men. It came from Strasburg, which city it left under a guard of two hundred men." on to say, that the general report in Paris identified the mysterious prisoner with the Chevalier de Guise. This de Guise was a young villain of two and twenty years of age, and colonel of a regiment in the army, commanded by Marshal Saxe. The marshal had discovered that his colonelchevalier was in treasonable correspondence with the queen of Hungary and her generals, to whom the recreant Frenchman had been conveying information of the proceedings and intentions of the marshal, as far as they could be penetrated. De Guise had certainly been arrested, and, as was not uncommon with state prisoners, nothing more was heard of him. The Parisians were soon set guessing again. The unknown prisoner could be no other, they thought, than the Marquis de Pont, whose offence was comprised under the phrase, “ Il a fait plusieurs extravagances à l'armée.” De Guise or de Pont, the question was never solved. Who the prisoner was, or what became of him, was never explained. He may have been one of the few who were enlarged when, more than forty years later, the Bastile closed the last chapter of its history.

Now, this circumstance of mystery and the Bastile brought back to our mind that old story of the Man in the Iron Mask. What a romantic and interesting personage he is! What books have been and will continue to be written about him! And how all the interest would collapse if we only knew for certain who he was! He? Man in the iron mask? We should say they men in the iron masks. There are above a score of claimants to the distinction of having worn the so-called iron mask. Half a dozen writers have prided themselves in having discovered the real hero. Each has his favorite. Each looks down with ineffable pity upon the supposed proofs of identification brought forward on behalf of any poor wretch but the pet one of the especial writer. Each writes his story, and swears to the truth of it. As we close narrative after parrative, the new London slang phrase seems to strike upon the ear, of " Stick to it ! says Baigent."

It was easy to make out stories for prisoners of whom nothing was really known. In 1722, Barbier recorded the death in the Bastile of the “ father of the captives;" that is the oldest, or doyen, of the prisoners. Thirty-five years had the nameless man been within those gloomy walls. He was originally suspected of being suspicious. It was thought that he might have some idea of poisoning the minister of war, M. de Louvois, who died in 1691. When arrested he was in the dress of a Jacobin friar. There was no shadow of proof against him. It was said he spoke such a jargon that no one of the king's interpreters of any known language, spoken or unspoken, could understand a single word of what he uttered; consequently, the public were told, that it was impossible to discover his name, his nationality, or the reason for his appearing in the Jacobin garb. All which, it appears, was a good reason for bury. ing him alive during five and thirty years in the Bastile

. Books, pen, ink, and paper, were alí kept from him. What could an incomprehensible man want with such trifles ? For thirty and five years the nameless man thought. To what home did his thoughts tend? In what home were thoughts and tears springing for him? Speech dared not be uttered in behalf of such a victim. When a

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THE MEN IN THE IRON MASKS.

ness.

The veiled prophet of Khorassan was a person of considerable interest only as long as it was impossible to make any thing out of him. The first individual to whom he condescended to show his face was disgusted with his ugli

The first lady who saw it fainted with affright. As soon as it was clearly ascertained that he was an ugly personage his fortunes fell, and nobody cared a fig for the once interesting Mokanna.

There is another nut to crack for the curious in that thing which has a name called “ Junius.” If it were once thoroughly settled who that pseudonymic shadow was, not a soul would continue to take the slightest concern in him or his history. Dozens of men daily write as well as Junius wrote. It is not any extraordinary merit in his style, nor any especially brilliant quality in his method or manner, in his imagination or expression, that has kept his name alive. He was, after all, a cowardly ruffian, whoever he may have been. Guy Fawkes, under the name of Mr. Johnson, preparing a train to blow up king, lords, and commons, - not forgetting means for Mr. Johnson's escape, - was a hero compared with Junius. The latter assailed his enemies (men, at all events, whom he hated) from an

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66

man was suddenly seized and shut up, about whom the that his half-brother, Louis XIV., became aware of the government desired that the outer world should know noth- fact just after his accession, and that the young king had ing, a fictitious story was made, and the family of the poor shut him up for life, and clapped the famous mask upon wretch were forbidden to make inquiry after him. Indeed, him, to keep him out of mischief and of the knowledge of the government desire to avoid discussion in such affairs the world at large. At this juncture, and as the rather went much farther than this. There was a horrible con- shadowy personage was uttering the names of one or two ciseness in the official declaration - generally coming from persons who believed in his claim, another mask, who had the king himself — as to how the prisoner, whom it was not indiscreetly entered the room without being, summoned, expedient to slay, was to be preserved, dead-alive. There lounged up to the chair where the protoclaimant was was nothing of the circumlocution office in it. Fancy Louis seated, and very rudely exclaimed, “ It's all a cock-and-bull XIV., that most Christian majesty, rising from his golden story! You a son of Anne of Austria ? I am a son of bed or from a gorgeous banquet, turning from the most ex- Anne of Austria, legitimate twin-brother of Louis XIV., quisite of earthly pleasures, to pen a little order for the per- born before him, but unjustly deprived of all my rights of petual imprisonment of some obnoxious individual, ending | primogeniture, and shut up for life, that the handsome with the awful words, " Take especial care that the world twin might reign.” Saying this, the mask sat down in the hears nothing more of this man !!”

lap of the other pretender, who, faintly remarking that When we ask for the man in the iron mask, we find our- the Duke of Buckingham was his father, seemed to evaposelves in the middle of a circle, consisting of about two rate altogether. “ There was nothing substantial in him," dozen gentlemen in sad-colored suits. Each has his face said the second claimant. 66 The real fact is as I have concealed beneath a velvet mask on steel springs (the stated; and I was privily put aside in order that my mask was not of iron, at all). Each puts his hand on his younger brother might reign.” We thought this story even heart, bows gravely, and, to whichever side we turn, we lamer than that of the former claimant. “It is believed hear from the half-hidden lips a murmur which says, or in, however,” he remarked, “ by eminent persons, writers which seems to say, “ I am the genuine personage, and all of historical romance, romantic history, novels, and meloothers are counterfeits."

dramas." When we asked if he would swear to the deHow can we deal with such a group of solemn individu- tails, he exclaimed, “ Oh, there you are at your swearing !” als? If only one be genuine, must all the rest necessarily and the chair was suddenly empty. be impostors? Let us eliminate the “supers” in this dra- There stood, however, at its side, quite as suddenly, the matic group. They are men without names. They have no third claimant. He was even more assured in his bearing supporters. We request all such to break up the circle, and than the two who had preceded him. “You know me, of to leave the room. They withdraw slowly, with disap- course," was his remark. Our rejoinder was that we pointed air. They have suffered, but cannot be famous. could not possibly recognize a face with a mask over it. They are not eligible for martyrdom; obscurity inwraps True,” he exclaimed; "but I am the Comte de Vermanthem. When they have glided away beyond vision, we are dois ;” and he added a “ Voilà,” as if the whole question somewhat relieved at finding that there remain only six or was settled. We were silent. He resumed, with some seven claimants to the honor of having been the heroes of petulance in his voice, as if he resented being doubted : an impenetrable mystery, and of having worn a mask * Mademoiselle de la Vallière was my mother. Read the which has hitherto been impenetrable to the most persist- • Mémoires sécrètes pour servir à l'histoire de Perse.' ent and ingenious curiosity.

Perse, you know, means Paris. Father Greffet believes in Still, here are some half-dozen claimants, and there is There is no other genuine unadulterated man in the only one alleged hero or martyr. Each of these has had iron mask but your humble servant. You may tell every his advocate or champion, who has been proud to speak of reader of Temple Bar that fact. The two claimants who his client as Serj. Ballantyne spoke of "the Claimant,” preceded me are impalpable shadows. They never existed. namely, “ The gentleman whom I represent.” “Well,” we I am the first person ever described as the man in the iron say to these claimants in masks, “ gentlemen, we will take mask. The pretended illegitimate son of Anne of Austria you one at a time. While we are treating with one, the and Buckingham, and the equally pretended legitimate others must remain out of court.” There is a murmur of twin-brother of Louis XIV., were simply invented afternot a very cordial assent; but all the masked individuals wards. You know that is the case.” rise from their chairs, bow silently, in token of accepting We certainly knew that Louis de Bourbon, Comte de the arrangement proposed, and wait to see who is to be un- Vermandois, was once a real, living, historical personage, der examination the first. Each has his foot forward, his the son of La Vallière and Louis, le grand monarque. We head slightly bent, and his hand on the back of his chair,

know too, now,
that the gallant but dissipated Vermandois

, as if he expected to be summoned to remain, and as if he who was said to have been imprisoned and masked, by had a right to the distinction of enjoying precedency over order of Louis XIV., for the alleged offence of striking the the others. We are perplexed. The masks are silent. Grand Dauphin, was, throughout his life, in presence of

We examine them keenly. We would fain take the most the public, and was with the army in Flanders, where he interesting first. We are forced to take our chance. We died, in 1673. He was buried with gorgeous ceremony in adopt selection so far as to point to a personage of gallant the cathedral of Paris. Now, the so-called genuine iron bearing, despite apparent feebleness. He resumes his mask died in 1703, and was buried in the cemetery of St. seat, with a proud and conscious air, as if nothing had Paul, in Paris. happened but what he might expect in regard to the ur- “ It was a pretended funeral,” said the count.

6 Read gency of his claims. The rest look on for a moment, with Pecquet. In his · Mémoires Sécrètes,' he says I was prian air of jealousy at the favor he has found; and they vately seized and spirited away.” shake their masks and their heads in silent derision of his Why, Pecquet,” we replied, “was shut up in the pretensions. But he waves his hand to them, as if he had Bastile himself, for writing those lies about you.” been accustomed to wave it in princely courts; and uttering “And the public have believed in them. See what a price a “ Stand all apart !” as Edmund Kean used to utter it is given for the book, even now! Col. Stanley's copy sold when you first saw him seated on the throne as Richard for 21. 58. Of translations there were many: George III., the same consequence followed. All, thus perempto- Faulkner printed a pirated edition, in Dublin, in 1765.” rily bidden, glide away into outward darkness, till their “ M. le Comte,” we said, “ go in peace. You have been presence, simultaneously, or one after the other, may be made the dupe of an ill-contrived story. The other claimagain required on the stage.

ants were not even the individuals they claimed to be. The mask Aung himself back in his chair : he became You are Louis de Bourbon; but you are no more the perfectly easy, and fell into such loquacious details, that in masked prisoner than they are. Adieu!” a very short space of time we learned from him that he

Enfoncé!” exclaimed the count.

“ I don't believe a was an illegitimate son of Anne of Austria, wife of Louis word of it myself !” — and he passed through the door, XIII. ; that his birth was known to Cardinal Richelieu; courteously saluted by the next who entered.

me.

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